


Put em' to Bed

by sex_drugs_moriarty



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash, Sleepiness, Steve's a good little helper, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-01
Updated: 2013-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-16 18:05:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/865002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sex_drugs_moriarty/pseuds/sex_drugs_moriarty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve's taking care of the Avengers after a bit of a tedious mission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Put em' to Bed

Initially, Steve doesn't know what makes him do it.

It'd been a rough mission for the Avengers, fighting some maniac man-child with the power to turn things "*Unlucky". He'd touched Steve's shield and made it hit Steve whenever he threw it, regardless of when or where. Natasha's blows somehow missed every mark, Clint's arrows miraculously aimed for his teammates, and the Hulk decided his grievance against Thor was more prevalent than the weirdo they were currently fighting. To make matters worse, the kid had gotten a tap on Iron Man's helmet as they duked it out, and the metal simply....crumpled in on itself, leaving Tony's face covered in bruises and scratches before Steve could rip it off. The true winner of the battle, however, had been Natasha, who after the helmet-smushing had gotten fed up and bent the kid's arm inwards, pressing his fingers to his own chest and watching his power cancel out as Clint finished him off with a neat whack across the head from the end of his bow.

They'd slummed back to the tower, passing out in various places- Thor in the communal kitchen, hand still inside a box of poptarts, Clint and Natasha leaning on each other and sleeping upright against the wall, Bruce somewhere in his rooms, Tony in his workshop, sitting curved over the damaged face plate of the suit, chin in his palm and screwdriver between his teeth, and Steve across the couch, one arm still tucked under his shield.

That was where Steve woke up, less than an hour later, and he stretched out his stiff muscles before searching out the rest of his team.

He tilted his head up  to the ceiling, still unused to talking into thin air.

"Could you tell me where the rest are, Jarvis?"

Certainly, Sir.

 

With Jarvis's guidance, he sneaks around the house, finding the others and (though he'd never say it) putting them to bed.

 

He helps Thor off of the kitchen floor and then out of his armour, even going as far as to fold his cape neatly. He then sends the god off to bed, laughing to himself as Thor stumbles off, still clutching the last poptart from the box in one arm, and his hammer in the other.

 

He carefully studies Clint and Natasha for a moment- and it's a testament to how long they've been living together that neither one of them immediately wakes.  "Hey," he calls, voice gentle yet firm. Any louder and he'd spook them, and even he knew that touching a sleeping assassin was perhaps not the greatest idea (he'd tried it once, don't ask). They both blink rapidly, eying him. "You should get to bed," he says, and holds out two blankets, one full of fluff and a bright, obnoxious purple, and the other so worn that it's color is almost indistinguishable, but still carrying the air of Natasha's.

She scoops them out of his hand, one arm curved around Clint's shoulder. She pulls the purple blanket over him, and clutches hers in the other palm. Steve turns to leave, but as he walks away he hears a faint burst of words into the air.

"спасибо."

"Thanks."

He smiles the entire way down to Bruce's floor.

He finds a deeply-asleep Bruce on the floor with a book over his face, letting out rumbling snores. He peels back the covers on Bruce's bed (and oh the irony, they're a lovely olive green) and plops the sleeping doctor in it, smoothing the sheets over and slipping a scrap of paper in the book to mark the page. He steps over to the closet, not worried about making noise (Bruce usually sleeps like the dead after hulking out.) and pulls out a sweater and some slacks, laying them across a chair so Bruce won't have to go far later on. He ends with a glass of water on the nightstand, and leaves Bruce's glasses neatly folded nearby.

He shuts the door quietly, just in case, and moves to find Tony.

He finds the man curled over the Iron Man suit, chin gradually sliding from his palms. Steve neatly plucks the screwdriver from between Tony's pearly-whites, and scoops him into his arms, pondering what to do with the various scraps and slides littered around. In the end, he asks Jarvis to save whatever Tony's working on, and carts him up the stairs. He sits Tony in his bed and gathers the first aid kit- of course the stubborn man hasn't been to medical. He hums softly, swabbing at the cuts and bruises with peroxide instead of rubbing alcohol, and presses gauze and tape to the deeper scrapes. Tony fidgets the entire time, but doesn't wake until Steve moves away.

"Stay," he demands, eyes blurry.

"Tony...." Steve whispers.

 

 

"Stay."

Steve does, stiffly laying next to the man as he does his very best attempt at being an octopus. He relaxes soon enough though, enjoying the faint blue light and the gentle whirr of the arc reactor, and if he's honest with himself, the fragile pressure and warmth of Tony's arms.

He wakes early, untangling himself and placing a pillow in his stead.

Later, he draws all of them, down to the very last detail, and thinks- _This is my family_.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> just Steve being all helpful-y. 
> 
> *the kid with the "unlucky power" is based on the fullbringer Shishigawara Moe from the manga Bleach by Kubo Tite.
> 
> Natasha says (if it wasn't clear) thank you.


End file.
